


Caring for Your Pet Snake: A Beginner's Guide

by SleeveOfSaltines



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Slow Burn (Good Omens), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale is Bad at Being an Angel (Good Omens), Aziraphale is Bad at Feelings (Good Omens), Canon Compliant, Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Caring Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fluff and Angst, Gabriel is a dick, Heaven treated Aziraphale really badly, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Post-Canon, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Touch-Starved, Touch-Starved Aziraphale (Good Omens), also anathema can see their auras, but besides that its fine, but he doesn't quite realize it, it ignores the fact that they held hands on the bus, well mostly canon compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:15:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22429201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleeveOfSaltines/pseuds/SleeveOfSaltines
Summary: " “Are you hurt, my dear?” Aziraphale couldn’t see anything wrong with the demon, other than the fact that he wasn’t exactly, well, a demon.Crowley shook his head again, but less violently. This was good, at least, he wasn’t hurt. But why wouldn’t he just answer the questions? Aziraphale thought he knew the answer, but it still was difficult for him to get out.“Crowley, can you not turn back into your human form?”This was met with another shake of the serpentine head, and Aziraphale’s heart sank.“Oh. Oh dear.” was all that the angel was able to say. "When Crowley transforms into his snake form and is unable to change back, Aziraphale must put aside his feelings and anxieties and try to find a cure. Luckily for the angel, their relationship can't get MORE complicated with Crowley as a snake. Or can it?
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 94
Kudos: 501





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Psychological Abuse, Implied PTSD
> 
> Hey y'all! I'm back with yet another slow burn! This one is going to be pretty PG for the most part (if that changes, I'll let you know), and focuses mainly on Aziraphale's journey with dealing with the after-effects of millennia of abuse and emotional repression. 
> 
> Don't worry, it's not all heavy stuff. Although Crowley may be stuck in the body of a snake, that doesn't mean he can't do his best to help his beloved angel through all of it...
> 
> ...if only he had opposable thumbs :)

Aziraphale’s hand was shaking. There was a lot to take in at that moment, the flurry of activity in the preceding moments would take some time to pick apart, and yet Aziraphale could only seem to stare at his own hand. His right one, to be exact, the one that he wore his ring on. It was trembling, like an anxious energy altogether different from anything he had ever experienced before had possessed it.

It was interesting, he thought, how such a simple touch could affect his corporation so intensely. Before, he had never really given much thought to the reactions his corporation had to contact – he didn’t need to. Up in heaven, all that existed were formalities, curt handshakes that seemed to say “I am acknowledging the official business matter we are about to discuss.” That was it. That was all he knew.

Why would he know any different? How _could_ he? Nobody had ever had any reason to touch him – he kept to himself and the other residents of Soho to theirs. And that was that.

It was for this reason, this isolation that Aziraphale lived in, that when Crowley had innocently reached across the gap between them to clasp the angel’s hand in a moment of laughter, he had frozen up. It wasn’t that he had tried to, or even that he had wanted to, it just… happened.

Moments before, they had both been enjoying yet another bottle of wine (a wonderful red he had picked up in Rome, Aziraphale remembered vaguely) in the back corner of the bookshop, and had been discussing… what was it? Ah, he remembered. The new café that had opened up a couple blocks away. He had made some comment about their menu, their décor, _something_ , and the already tipsy demon had burst out in laughter, teasing him for his strong opinions about such a trivial matter. It was not, Aziraphale had gone to snap, a trivial matter, but before he had been able to open his mouth the demon had absentmindedly reached over to his armrest and put his hand atop the angel’s own.

It was a simple gesture, possibly even involuntary, but as the pair locked eyes all of Crowley’s joyfulness seemed to dissipate. Aziraphale had stared back, his body rigid, adrenaline pumping into his system. His hand felt as if it were on fire, unaccustomed to the sensation it was currently experiencing. Eventually, Crowley had pulled his hand away. Considering how well Crowley could read the angel, it was probably only after a couple seconds, but it felt like an eternity. It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling, but it was by no means a pleasant one either. It was just… just wrong. Crowley was too gentle, too caring, and as his hand had touched the angel’s he felt as if all of that were pouring into his corporation, filling him with emotions he didn’t have the capacity to process.

He had been vaguely aware that Crowley was stammering a string of apologies, but all Aziraphale could do was stare fixatedly on a spot on the bookcase behind him, his head spinning and his hand shaking. He should have said something, he realized all too late, as before he could even begin to put words to what was happening to him Crowley had sat up straight, snapped his fingers, and, of all things, turned into a snake.

If Aziraphale had been speechless before, he was absolutely and totally dumbstruck then. It had been ages since he had seen the demon in his serpentine form, and he had honestly forgotten what he looked like. The man who had been in front of him was now a rapidly-uncurling coil of shining black scales on the rug below them, a result of an anxious impulse.

Aziraphale couldn’t move as he watched Crowley make a beeline for the door, leaving behind his jacket and hat, and disappearing onto the dark street. And that was that.

So there he was. Still without words, still without answers, and now without the demon. Finally managing to relieve his corporation of some of the tension, he fell back into his chair and turned his attention back to his trembling hand. Goodness, he wasn’t sure what to do. The heat had long since faded, and left in its wake a deep chill, like the absence of something he hadn’t even known was there. He wanted relief from it, he wanted the warm feeling back. But that feeling came with Crowley, and with Crowley’s touch came all that guilt, all that darkness, all the feelings that the angel seemed to have every single blasted time the pair was close. After the bus ride back from Tadfield, after the convent, after the bombing of the church, after Rome, after Mesopotamia, all the way back to the moments that the pair had stood on the wall of Eden, watching Adam and Eve disappear on the horizon as the first raindrops fell. Every single time, he was overwhelmed with a swirling mixture of emotions dominated by love, and followed shortly after with crippling self-hatred.

Because, Aziraphale thought trembling even harder, he wasn’t sure what he was experiencing _was_ love. In heaven, the angels loved one another – they made it known that their jobs were to care for one another, and to never doubt it. _That_ was love. The bright light, the civil conversation, the smiling faces, that was heaven and heaven was love.

So why did it feel wrong? Why, every single time he was called to heaven, did he feel so out of place, so unnatural? And why, why, every blasted time he was with the demon did he get _that_ feeling. It was a feeling that he would never say aloud, especially not around the other angels. It felt different from heaven, like it was something bad that he should be washed of. Something too organic, too human, too deep. He knew feelings like this were wrong – they were below him, reserved for humans, not for the ethereal.

But, as he sat, still trembling with tears beginning to prickle behind his eyes like they did every single time, he knew. Deep down, past all the light from heaven, all the forced smiles, all the barriers he had built around himself to ignore this feeling and keep on with his job, he knew that what he felt was love. In its most pure, untarnished form, he felt love for the demon. He was sure of it.

It was for this reason, Aziraphale reflected with a whimper as he closed his eyes and let the tears fall, that he was in this position. He was trembling from a hatred so powerful, so intense after 6000 years of forcing it upon himself that he couldn’t run after Crowley, he couldn’t apologize, he couldn’t even move. He despised himself for what he felt, and even more for making it this bad. Because, although it was months after the non-pocalypse and he knew that heaven would never bother him again, he was still just as trapped as he had been before. As he always would be.

…

By the time the sun began to peek through the dusty bookshop windows once more, Aziraphale was doing better. The wine glasses that had been left on the table had been miracled back into their place in the back room and, like the dishes from the night before, the angel had cleaned himself up a bit. He hadn’t slept a wink – he rarely did – but he had calmed down. After he had finally stopped his self-indulgent flow of tears, he had decidedly pushed the matter to the back of his mind as he did the time before, and before that. Trying to process it was impossible, and frankly he didn’t want to try. The question of whether he ever would was one he would never consciously address, and he intended to keep it that way.

Aziraphale knew it was best to leave things be, and it was for that reason that he was currently buttoning up his jacket, wrapping a scarf around himself, and had gathered up Crowley’s discarded coat and hat. He didn’t really want to face the demon right now. He knew he would have questions – questions and apologies and sympathy and prodding – and frankly Aziraphale wasn’t sure what he was going to say. However, after hours of deliberation during the early morning hours, he had decided that the best course of action would be to just return the demon’s things and keep moving on. Avoiding Crowley would only make things worse.

Stepping out onto the blustery street, Aziraphale pulled the door closed behind him and turned the key. It was an interesting morning – the wind seemed to suggest an incoming storm, and yet the sun shone brightly over the roofs of the buildings around him. It seemed that the weather wasn’t able to make up its mind, and Aziraphale felt he understood.

Setting off down the street, Aziraphale began to rehearse what he would say. ‘Good morning, Crowley! Sorry to intrude, I’m just returning your jacket you left at the bookshop last night. I’m sorry…’

It was a good thing the angel had decided to walk to Crowley’s, as it was becoming clear to him that he wasn’t at all sure what he was going to say. ‘I’m sorry for disturbing you?’ ‘…for rejecting you?’ ‘…for going so slow?’ None of those would do, he knew that. ‘Sorry for acting so strange’? No, that would only invite more questions. Before he could come up with a satisfactory apology, Aziraphale was rounding the corner to the demon’s flat.

Goodness, he wasn’t sure what he was going to do. Did he even have anything to apologize for? He felt terrible for upsetting the demon, but it wasn’t really his fault. Was it? Aziraphale stopped at the door to the building and, sighing, turned the knob.

Walking up the stairs to the flat felt like an eternity – the angel’s heart was pounding in his chest and part of him wanted to just go back to the shop and give himself more time to prepare. However, he steeled himself. He knew that if he let himself go back to the comfort of the shop he would only put off the inevitable conversation and draw even more attention to himself, and that was the last thing he wanted. He was content spending the rest of his days the way they were right now, and didn’t want to jeopardize that.

Finally reaching the flat (it was only two flights of stairs, but it felt much farther), Aziraphale took one more deep breath, and rapped the knocker. Having expected to hear the deep reverberation of the wooden door, he was quite surprised when it swung open with his touch. This was unusual – Crowley was a very private person and was unlikely to just leave his door unlatched. Was something wrong?

Trying to ignore the anxiety beginning to creep into the back of his mind, Aziraphale pushed the door open a smidge and called out.

“Crowley? Are you home? It’s me.”

No response.

The angel stepped into the apartment. All the lights were off, and had it not been for one of Crowley’s many plants being knocked over, there would have been no sign anyone had been in there recently. Aziraphale made his way over to overturned pot and put it upright as his heart rate rose.

“Crowley? Are you here? Are you okay, my dear?”

Still nothing. That wasn’t good. Had someone broken in? Aziraphale made his way into the kitchen adjacent to the office. He had only been in the flat a couple of times, but he knew the general layout. Inching towards the counter, he grabbed a large knife out of the block and turned to face the hallway. He knew he was probably being silly - he was a supernatural being who could do much more damage by himself than with a human knife – but something about having a weapon made him feel a bit safer.

Beginning to make his way down the hallway, Aziraphale had completely forgotten the purpose of his visit. Now, he was only concerned about whether or not Crowley was okay. Reaching the first door, he took a deep breath and pushed it open. It was nothing but a bathroom, empty and dark.

Next door. Closet. Still nothing.

As Aziraphale approached the final door which he deduced was the bedroom, his heart hammered in his chest. His palms had begun to grow sweaty, and he readjusted his grip on the knife’s handle. He was afraid of what he might find. Was Crowley hurt? Was there someone lurking in the apartment? Aziraphale swallowed, and, without letting himself have another thought, pushed the door open.

Nothing. The bed was made neatly, and the shutters were drawn. Aziraphale slowly let his breath out. He wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or not. On one hand, no maniac had jumped out to attack him. On the other hand, however, he still hadn’t located the demon and had no answers for the door or the plant.

Aziraphale wasn’t sure what to do next. Loosening his grip on the knife, he began to turn around to close the door when something caught his eye. Something black and shiny. Something long and slender. From under the bed protruded what was unmistakably a tail.

Thank _goodness_. Aziraphale felt the anxiety melt away as he made his way to the bed and knelt down.

“Crowley, my dear, you scared me! Didn’t you hear me? I’m sorry for just barging in, it was just that your door was open and I became rather nervous, you see.”

The tail twitched and pulled itself under the bed skirt. Aziraphale wanted to lift it up, to see Crowley as he spoke, but the demon obviously didn’t return the sentiment. 

“I’m sorry, dear. I’ve just come to return your jacket and hat.” The reason for Aziraphale’s visit re-entered his mind. “I’m not upset, not at all my boy.”

Still nothing.

Aziraphale sighed, resigning himself to the difficult conversation he knew he would have to have. “I understand if you are though. Upset, I mean. My behavior last night was unwarranted, and I apologize for that. I believe I just had a few too many drinks and wasn’t quite myself, so I understand if I distressed you, my dear. I truly am sorry.”

This time, the only response the angel received was a soft hiss. He took to mean that Crowley didn’t want to speak, so he slowly stood up and sighed.

“It’s ok if you don’t want to talk right now. I know I’ve overstepped. I’ll see myself out. If you change your mind though, I’ll be at the bookshop.”

Turning, Aziraphale made his way to the door. Before he exited, he took one last glance back at the bed. Nothing.

Walking down the hall and into the kitchen, he picked up Crowley’s jacket and hat from where he had cast them on the counter, and returned the knife to its place. Aziraphale turned towards the door, ready to hang the clothes on a coat rack next to it. Before he reached it, however, he felt something brush over his shoes.

Startled, the angel looked down to see Crowley, still in snake form, rubbing his tail against him as if trying to get his attention.

“Oh!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “You startled me! You could have just said something, you know.”

Snake-Crowley began to circle around Aziraphale’s feet, his golden eyes locked with the angel's own. This was certainly odd. Was this some sort of taunt? He knew that Crowley was probably upset with him, or at least confused by the events, but he had never done anything like this before.

“Like I said, if you don’t want to talk that’s ok. I’m leaving, I promise. But, please dear, could you be careful? I don’t want to step on you.”

Aziraphale took another couple of steps when he felt a heavy weight hit his leg. Looking down once again, he saw Crowley had his head raised and extended, as if he were trying to knock into the angel.

“Now, _Crowley_!” Aziraphale snapped. “There really is no need for this sort of behavior! Either transform back and talk to me, or don’t, but please don’t keep trying to trip me! You know it’s childish and I am not in the mood for such things!”

As these words left the angel’s mouth, he feared that they had been too harsh. He expected Crowley to either slither away or to resume his human form and make some sort of witty comeback. What he did _not_ expect, was for Crowley to throw his serpentine body against the angels legs yet again, and to look up at him while shaking his head.

“Crowley…” Aziraphale began angrily, when a thought entered his mind. “Crowley,” he started again, calmer. “Are you ok?”

Snake-Crowley shook his head again, even more vigorously this time, as he coiled his body in front of the angel. Oh. That wasn’t good.

“Are you hurt, my dear?” Aziraphale couldn’t see anything wrong with the demon, other than the fact that he wasn’t exactly, well, a demon.

Crowley shook his head again, but less violently. This was good, at least, he wasn’t hurt. But why wouldn’t he just answer the questions? Aziraphale thought he knew the answer, but it still was difficult for him to get out.

“Crowley, can you _not_ turn back into your human form?”

This was met with another shake of the serpentine head, and Aziraphale’s heart sank.

“Oh. Oh dear.” was all that the angel was able to say.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Aziraphale's research efforts are fruitless, he has to help Crowley in other ways. However, he quickly learns that regardless of his form, Crowley has a hard time expressing his feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! I'm back with another chapter! I'm sorry that this one is still pretty heavy on the exposition, but it never hurts to have a reminder of how incompetent they both are ;)
> 
> Don't worry, the next one is going to be fun - Neither of them actually have the slightest clue about how to take care of snakes (which is especially unfortunate for Crowley), and thus the trial and error shenanigans ensue.

In moments when a significant realization has been made, or when a piece of information previously unknown to all present parties is revealed, there tends to be a pause in the conversation. Not one which is planned or expected, simply one that is mutually agreed upon. Whether this silence is due to shock, anxiety, gratitude, or any other strong emotion, depends on the situation.

In the current situation, the silence was due primarily to one of the two beings involved not having vocal cords. Aziraphale reflected upon this vaguely as he sat down on Crowley’s couch, grateful for a place to rest while his head stopped spinning. Crowley followed, coiling himself up near the angel’s feet waiting for the angel to speak.

Aziraphale closed his eyes for a moment, and when he reopened them the apartment seemed much more in focus.

“Crowley,” he began “Have you been stuck like this since last night?”

Crowley nodded and wrapped himself tighter, obviously embarrassed.

“Oh dear. Have you tried transforming back?”

This was met with a tilt of the head and a hiss, which Aziraphale assumed was snake language for “Of course I tried that, you bloody idiot.”

“Ah, I’m sorry, that was a stupid question. Do you have any idea what to do?”

Crowley uncoiled himself a bit, and slithered closer to Aziraphale and “stood up” so that they could see each other better. He then gave a sort of nod with his head, gesturing towards the angel.

“Me? What… oh. Oh dear, I’m sorry Crowley. I can’t perform miracles directly on demons. I mean, I’ve never tried, but I’ve heard its very, well, not pleasant for either being.”

This seemed to hit Crowley hard, and as he slunk back onto the floor Aziraphale realized that he had been counting on the angel to help him. Oh, goodness, the situation he had gotten himself into this time.

“Well, _I_ can’t. That doesn’t mean that there’s not some spell or book out there that has answers. Transfiguration is an ancient art, so I’m sure _someone_ has to have figured it out!

This seemed to cheer Crowley up a little.

“Good! I can go back to my shop and see what I can find!”

Crowley nodded, and Aziraphale was secretly grateful that he didn’t have to give an explanation for why he wasn’t inviting Crowley back with him. He wanted to help the demon, there was no doubt about that, but he wasn’t quite sure he could face him right now. Although it was Crowley’s issue that he had somehow lost his abilities to transform himself, the angel couldn’t help but feel responsible. After all, it was his reaction to the demon’s touch that had gotten them both into this mess in the first place and, as usual, Aziraphale was just not prepared to address that topic.

Aziraphale reached the door before pausing. “Crowley?” he asked. “Do you want me to turn on the television or something for you?”

Crowley nodded enthusiastically as if he had never heard a better idea in his immortal life, and Aziraphale couldn’t help but laugh. He picked up the remote from the end table and hit the power button.

The television on the far wall turned on to some show with some wealthy looking women arguing over what appeared to be an expensive dress. “Kyyyyyliiiieeee” one of them droned. Having not watched much television, Aziraphale couldn’t help but begin to follow along, but before he could realize what was happening Crowley had lunged and knocked the remote out of his hand. Confused, Aziraphale watched as the snake’s attention snapped between the television and the remote which he was stabbing furiously at with his tail.

Suddenly catching on, Aziraphale knelt down. “Do you want me to change the channel?”

Crowley nodded furiously, then used his nose to point at a green button which Aziraphale pushed. The television changed to a channel that appeared to be showing some old black and white movie, and Crowley settled down noticeably.

Repressing a laugh, Aziraphale said his goodbyes again and left, shutting the door snuggly behind him. He wasn’t sure what that first program had been, but it was clear that Crowley didn’t want Aziraphale seeing it or, even more likely considering the demon’s fragile nature, he didn’t want Aziraphale knowing that he had been watching it.

Heading back down the stairs, Aziraphale snapped his fingers so that the door locked. He knew Crowley could probably hold his own, but just in case someone did want to get in they wouldn’t be able to. Sighing deeply, the angel began his walk back to his shop. He had a lot of work ahead of him.

…

Aziraphale had looked through many books on transfiguration, spellcasting, and even alchemy. He had looked at papyrus older than the city he resided in, read texts in languages long forgotten to everybody except him, and had exhausted more spellbooks than the average human even knew existed. Books and scrolls littered every possible surface, and papers were strewn across the floor as if a small tornado had ravaged the shop. All this work, however, had been without luck. Aziraphale was currently sitting at his desk, another book propped in front of his face, and was chewing anxiously on a pen. He had barely made a dent in the entire collection.

Upon reaching the end of the book with no avail, he cast the pen down irritably. Hours and hours of research, and not one single piece of information that might be helpful. Blast it, Aziraphale wasn’t sure what to do apart from continuing to look. 

Summoning another book, the angel sighed and reached to turn on his desk lamp. Oh, goodness! The sun was beginning to set already? Aziraphale looked around and realized hours had passed since he had first sat down that morning. He had been so engrossed that he hadn’t realized.

This, however, did have a slight benefit to it, Aziraphale reflected, as until that moment he had not thought even once about the events of the night before. That was good – he needed to stay levelheaded, and going into a panic over his own thoughts would not help anything.

Stretching his legs, the angel began to reshelf some of the books. He was beginning to feel a bit hungry, and now that his attention wasn’t devoted to research he began to wonder how Crowley was fairing alone in the flat. Aziraphale suddenly was hit with a wave of guilt. Crowley, his best friend, was trapped in the body of a snake, and he had simply left him to watch television alone? Goodness, he wasn’t sure what he was thinking. As much as he wanted to distance himself from the events of the night before, he needed to go check on him.

Going into the back room, Aziraphale buttoned up his jacket and picked up the phone and dialed the number to his favorite Chinese place on the way to Crowley’s. He was hungry, so he might as well kill two birds with one stone so to speak. As the line rang, he vaguely wondered what snakes liked to eat. Settling on some chow mein, General Tso’s chicken, and an assortment of dim sum, Aziraphale placed the order and locked the shop up.

Outside the sun had just gone behind the tops of the buildings, and the wind was much calmer than before. Dreading this encounter much less than the previous one, Aziraphale found himself walking quite a bit faster and by the time he reached the restaurant he had to wait a few minutes for his order. After paying, he continued on to Crowley’s flat.

When he had climbed the stairs, he knocked on the door, then removed the miracle and stepped inside. Crowley was right where he had left him, watching an old slapstick comedy on the television. That was good, he was ok and he hadn’t managed to get into any sort of trouble. Well, apart from the whole being-a-snake thing.

Hearing Aziraphale come in, Crowley turned to the remote and pressed the power button with his tail (good, thought the angel, he’s figured out how to work the remote at least) before slithering over to greet him.

“Hello, dear, I’m sorry I was gone so long. Still a snake, I see?” The angel’s sly comment was not lost on Crowley, who wriggled a little and gave a nod and a hiss. Aziraphale decided to assume this was snake-speak for ‘What else would I be, an aardvark?’ and he laughed. Even as a snake, Crowley was still a sarcastic little bugger.

“I brought dinner!” Aziraphale said lifting up the bags. “Shall we eat in the kitchen?”

Crowley looked as if he were thinking for a second before shaking his head and lifting up part of his body before dropping back down.

“Ah, silly me!” the angel laughed. “Let’s eat in the living room, that way you won’t have to sit on the table and risk becoming one with the food.”

The demon seemed to approve of this idea, as he slithered back over to where he had been sitting near the couch and motioned with his head for Aziraphale to sit down across from him. The angel began to unpack the food excitedly, miracling plates to appear and pouring sauces into bowls. Crowley, on the other hand, stared at Aziraphale unblinkingly as if waiting for something.

“Oh! Aziraphale exclaimed. He had completely forgotten the reason for his visit, he had been so excited about the food. “I’m sorry my dear boy, I spent all day in the shop and I haven’t come across anything that looks to be helpful yet.”

Crowley seemed to deflate, to which Aziraphale hurriedly added “Don’t worry, it’s only been one day. I’m going to keep looking, I promise you!”

This seemed to cheer Crowley up somewhat, but when Aziraphale fixed a plate for him he only took a few bites. He didn’t eat much normally, but this seemed like very little even for him.

“Is everything alright, Crowley?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley looked down at himself, then back up at the angel and wiggled his tail.

“Well, yes, I see that you’re a snake. We’ve established that this is an issue.” He didn’t know what the demon was talking about.

Crowley rolled his eyes (well, as best as he could considering their limited movement) and shook his head. He then pointed to the food.

“Oh, do you mean that, as a snake, you don’t like to eat human food?”

This was met with an affirming nod.

“Ah, I see. I’m sorry Crowley, I really don’t know anything about snakes.”

Crowley pointed at himself again, shook his head, pointed at Aziraphale, and shook his head once more.

“Do you mean to say that _you_ don’t know anything about snakes either? Goodness, Crowley!” Aziraphale was surprised – he wasn’t sure how he was going to take care of a demon in a snake’s body, and he especially wasn’t sure how to when the snake _himself_ was just as clueless.

Crowley looked down at the floor, embarrassed.

“Oh, don’t be upset dear, I wasn’t laughing at you. I was just surprised, is all.” Aziraphale paused for a moment, thinking. “Crowley, how long has it been since you turned into a snake? I mean before today?”

Crowley looked confused, and Aziraphale realized that he couldn’t quantify time all that easily.

Aziraphale pressed on. “Has it been more than a century?”

Crowley nodded, then lifted his chin up as if to indicate something higher.

“Two centuries?” Higher

“Five centuries?” Higher

 _“Seven_ centuries?” Higher

“ _A millennia?!?!?”_ A nod.

“Oh goodness, Crowley, you mean to tell me it’s been 1000 years since you last turned into a snake?”

Crowley nodded again looking more embarrassed than before.

“Oh, my dear boy, that’s probably the problem! It’s been so long since you did that you’ve forgotten how to change back!” Aziraphale wasn’t exactly sure how these things worked, but it seemed like a valid hypothesis.

Crowley cocked his head and gave it a slight tip – the snake equivalent of a shrug, Aziraphale surmised. He then lay down on the floor, as if tired, and cast a sideways look at the angel.

“I’m sorry, my boy, it’s just a lot to take in. I imagine you’re tired, and I should probably get back to my research.” Aziraphale stood up, snapping his fingers to clear the dishes off the table. Crowley gave him a small nod of agreement.

“Do you need anything else before I go?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley paused for a moment, before pointing his nose towards the couch and cocking his head.

Aziraphale didn’t understand and his confusion must have been evident because Crowley hissed before turning towards the couch, slithering quickly, and throwing his outstretched body at the slippery fabric. Despite his efforts, he fell backwards onto the hard floor before turning back to the angel with his head dipped down.

“Oh dear, Crowley, don’t do that!” Aziraphale exclaimed before Crowley could try yet another demonstration of his struggles. “Please! You’ll hurt yourself, and you know that I wouldn’t know how to help!” The angel snapped his fingers and the couch decreased in size, turning into what almost resembled a small bed.

To this, Crowley gave an appreciative nod before slithering into it with considerably more ease and turning back to look at the angel, who in turned smiled and began to button up his overcoat. However, before he could depart, Crowley hissed again motioned with his head towards the coat.

At first, Aziraphale was unsure what he was asking for. However, as Crowley coiled his body more tightly he vaguely remembered something about snakes liking warmed climates.

“Ah, it is rather chilly in here.” The angel agreed, feeling a little bad that he hadn’t realized earlier. With yet another snap of his fingers, Crowley was surrounded with blankets and pillows.

“Is that better, my dear?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley only responded by curling up tighter.

“Was that not it? I’m sorry, I think I misunderstood. What is it that you need?” The angel was pretty sure he had interpreted Crowley’s actions correctly, but evidently he was missing something.

Crowley paused for a moment, as if unsure how to explain what was going through his mind. Finally, taking what seemed to be the serpentine equivalent of a deep breath, he slithered out from under the blankets towards Aziraphale’s feet and pointed his head towards the door. This was followed by another cock of the head as he shrunk back into himself, obviously a bit embarrassed.

Aziraphale finally understood what the demon was asking of him, and did his best to keep the mixture of emotions that had surfaced from expressing themselves on his face.

“Oh… you want to… come with me?” The angel wasn’t sure what to say, and at this hesitation Crowley tilted his head a little before turning around and slithering back into the bed.

“No!” the angel started, but trailed off. Of course he wanted to help him, but this was altogether a different request. The demon seemed to want Aziraphale to be comfortable, as evidenced by his latest action, but Aziraphale didn’t want him to think he didn’t care. Still, Aziraphale’s increasing heartrate was clearly telling him that this was the kind of situation he should avoid. He had managed to remain collected all day, pushing his anxieties away in favor of helping his friend, but he wasn’t quite sure that having the demon stay with him would exactly help him forget his feelings. At times like this, as throughout all of history, Aziraphale did best by keeping to himself and trying, _trying_ , to forget the emotions that the bloody demon made him feel.

He wasn’t sure what to do and was teetering between the options before Aziraphale suddenly realized something. Crowley had never exactly been the best at direct communication, even when he could speak, and tended to express himself in indirect ways that the angel didn’t always pick up on. One of these subtleties, he realized, were the requests of the last few minutes. The couch, the blankets… no matter how Aziraphale had responded, he suspected that Crowley still would have been unhappy. In fact, Aziraphale was willing to bet that he didn’t really have any trouble getting up on the couch. This seemed to be his restrained way of asking to go with the angel, by only accepting solutions that kept the pair together.

This tipped Aziraphale over the edge as he finally found his voice.

“I think… I think that would be just fine my dear. The bookshop is warmer, and if you came over I could do a bit of research on snakes. You know, try to work out a solution and figure out how to help you in the meantime.”

Crowley hissed softly and gave a gentle nod, as if thanking Aziraphale for both catching on to his request, and being so willing to fulfill it. This made Aziraphale admittedly a bit emotional, and in an attempt to quench the affection and inevitable anxiety bubbling up inside of him, decided to give Crowley just a _little_ bit of a hard time.

“Oh, and of course, I can keep an eye on you there, to keep you from falling off of any dangerous couches or running into any hazardous plants.” Aziraphale teased.

Crowley looked over at the plant which Aziraphale had righted that morning, before turning to the angel, baring his teeth, and giving a playful hiss.

Already feeling a bit calmer, the angel laughed before finishing the buttons on his coat. Crowley slithered closer, as if ready to climb the angel’s body, before abruptly stopping himself and looking up to meet the angel’s eyes.

“Oh…” Aziraphale began. He wasn’t quite sure about this part. He couldn’t miracle them back to the shop, but he also wasn’t sure he could carry him. Regardless of form, the angel knew that coming in that much contact with Crowley would not exactly work wonders for his mental state. Aziraphale paused for a moment, thinking.

After a moment, he snapped his fingers and miracled a tote bag into existence which he placed on the floor next to Crowley. The snake slithered inside and curled himself up, with only his head protruding.

“Thank you, my dear boy.” The angel was grateful that Crowley seemed to understand his discomfort, and respected it. He was also grateful, he reflected as he lifted the bag up by its handles and swung it gently over his shoulder, that Crowley didn’t press him for an explanation of this or the events of the previous evening.

Granted, that may have had more to do with the demon’s inability to ask complex questions, but Aziraphale appreciated it nonetheless.

Stepping out onto the landing and locking the door, the odd pair began their walk to the bookshop.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Crowley moves into the shop, he isn't the only one who needs to adjust. Luckily, after 6000 years, they've learned a thing or two about one another and can be there for each other. 
> 
> TW for panic attack (with some description) towards the end of the chapter.

Having Crowley in the shop, Aziraphale decided, was both a blessing and a curse.

Sitting at his desk, Aziraphale cast a glance towards the fireplace where, basking in its warm glow, Crowley was curled up on a blanket.

When the pair had first reached the shop Aziraphale had set the bag down on the floor and Crowley had slithered out. Despite having been in the shop innumerable times, he had paused and looked around (Aziraphale surmised that he was having some difficulty adjusting to his new perspective) before heading over to the fireplace next to which the pair had spent many a drunk evening enjoying each other’s company.

Aziraphale had followed, and when Crowley had pointed towards a tartan throw blanket hanging on the couch, he had laid it in front of the fire. Crowley had immediately slithered onto it and, after giving Aziraphale a soft thankful hiss, had promptly fallen asleep.

That had been at least a few hours ago, and the angel had glanced over every now and then to make sure he was still ok. It had struck Aziraphale that once they had gotten to the shop, Crowley had become much more amiable. A small smile played across his face as he reflected that the only reason he had been so demanding earlier was because he wanted to stay with the angel. Crowley never had been all that good with communicating, had he?

The warm fire casting flickering light over the book in front of him, Aziraphale couldn’t help but feel content. No, Crowley being a snake was by no means ideal, but having him sleeping only feet away, happy to be near the angel, was rather nice.

Aziraphale was a bit hesitant to admit that the handful of nights that this had happened before (well, not the snake thing, but the falling asleep in the bookshop thing) he had secretly been pleased. Crowley was a bit of a jumpy creature and was not one to let his guard down all that easily, so seeing him curled up on Aziraphale’s couch was rather sweet. Aziraphale also had to admit that more than a few of the times that this had happened he had let his mind wander into what might be. He knew it wasn’t reasonable, not when they were both still loyal to their sides, to be considering such things, but the angel had nevertheless thought about how nice it would be for Crowley to become a permanent fixture in the shop. To not have him asleep on the couch, but rather in the bed in the flat upstairs. To make a pot of tea in the morning and to bring a cup to the demon, who would pay him with one of his bright smiles. To not have to watch him, flustered from accidentally spending the night, bustle out of the shop and to not return for at least several months. To just be together in their own little world.

And, for this reason, Aziraphale considered the present situation to be both a blessing and a curse. His mind, free to wander into what might be, relished in the fact that Crowley was there and wouldn’t be running out in a flurry of embarrassment like he had every time before. However, letting his mind wander was never a wise thing and, as he turned the page of his book, he began to feel the rising panic in his gut.

The feelings from the night before had been pushed to the surface, and Aziraphale had to rest his head in his hands to keep himself grounded. Why did the stupid demon have to make him feel like this? Like he simultaneously wanted to spend the rest of eternity as close as possible, and to scrub himself clean of whatever it was that he was guilty of thinking. It wasn’t right – how could it be? – for an angel to care for a demon in the way he did, and he knew this. Every blasted time he was reminded of just how much of a failure he was, and how he could never, ever, be a proper angel.

It wasn’t like heaven was about to descend upon the pair – after the first couple centuries of the arrangement the fear of someone from heaven suddenly appearing at the wrong time had subsided – but they might as well have. Even if the pair was alone, even if nobody knew where they were, even if they were in the farthest reaches of the universe, light-years away from Earth, Aziraphale would feel as if he were doing something deeply and horribly wrong.

It was torment, he whimpered as the tears returned to his eyes once more, to have to live like this. Every time he looked into those beautiful golden eyes part of him would begin resisting, screaming that he was dirty, that he was wrong, that he was unholy. He should have fallen, he admitted to himself which only made the tears come more heavily, not Crowley. Crowley was all love, in the most wonderful organic way that humans seemed to experience it, and Aziraphale wanted nothing more than to bask in it. Goodness, that was _all_ he wanted, really.

In a way, he was almost jealous of the demon. Despite his claims to the contrary, Crowley was incredibly soft. His brash attitude, the dark glasses – he couldn’t cover up what he really was. Whenever the two were together Aziraphale could feel the waves of love pouring off of him. He made it look so easy, Aziraphale sobbed silently, to just live the way he wanted to.

The angel sat there for a while longer, allowing his mind to wander into all the things that he normally kept locked tightly away, and continued to let the tears flow. Finally, however, he began to calm himself down, at least enough to think rationally.

The whole situation was torturous, but a thought had crossed Aziraphale’s mind that comforted him. With Crowley as a snake, he couldn’t do half the things that drove Aziraphale to this state (goodness - the snarky comments, his blazing hair, the sly smiles, the meals he treated him to, the way he walked, the way he – he needed to stop himself), and maybe, just maybe, that would help. Aziraphale would be able to be close to him, but it wouldn’t be quite the same, and thus he didn’t need to feel as bad, right? Having feelings for a snake was much more difficult, and although Aziraphale consciously knew that the serpent sleeping on his blanket was the same old demon, this new situation might be a bit more manageable.

Turning back to the book, Aziraphale wiped his spectacles and began his research again. He would fix Crowley, he would stop at nothing to, but in the meantime he could try to appreciate the rather unorthodox circumstances.

…

The angel had managed to get through several more books before Crowley woke up. Aziraphale hadn’t noticed at first, and it seemed that the demon hadn’t wanted to bother him because by the time he noticed that the snake was no longer curled on the blanket, he had made his way into the back room of the shop. When Aziraphale walked in, he wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting, but it most definitely was not the demon coiled around a bottle of wine, furiously trying to pull the cork out with his fangs.

“Goodness, Crowley!” Aziraphale exclaimed, trying to stifle a laugh. “It’s barely 7 am! Besides, I don’t know if you can drink. I think alcohol is poisonous to most animals, if I recall correctly.”

Crowley hissed angrily and tilted his head, which Aziraphale imagined meant something along the lines of “try me.” However, he slithered away from the bottle to Aziraphale’s feet.

“I’ve been up researching more, and I haven’t found a cure yet. However, I have done a bit of reading up on snakes!” Aziraphale wasn’t too sure this would go over well, and he was correct. Crowley hissed and slithered past the angel back into the shop.

“I know, I’m sorry my dear boy” Aziraphale started as he followed the snake. “But I don’t want to do something wrong and hurt you! It’s temporary, I promise. I won’t stop looking, don’t worry.”

At this, Crowley stopped, but still looked rather annoyed. Sticking his tongue out, Crowley began to wiggle his tail like a dog would.

“Crowley, my goodness, I’m not going to treat you like a _pet_. I just want to make sure you’re okay. Now, come with me, let’s get you something to eat and drink.”

The demon still did not seem any more pleased with the prospect of being doted on like a puppy, but at the angel’s words he followed. Aziraphale realized it had been two days since the demon had anything to drink, and thus this compliance was most likely due more to necessity than anything. Still, it was good that Crowley was at least letting him make sure that he wasn’t about to die.

Aziraphale made his way up the staircase to the flat, and Crowley followed doing an odd sort of bobbing slither to climb the stairs. This was rather amusing to watch, but Aziraphale new better than to comment on it.

At the top, they turned left into the small kitchen where Aziraphale miracled the blanket from downstairs to appear. Crowley paused for a moment, glaring at Aziraphale, before finally slithering onto the blanket without dropping his defiant attitude. His look seemed to say “I’m laying down because it’s more comfortable, _not_ because you want me to” and Aziraphale had to turn away towards the cabinets to avoid laughing. The demon was as touchy as ever, and Aziraphale was secretly grateful that nothing had changed.

Pulling a bowl down from the cabinet, Aziraphale filled it with water and set it in front of Crowley who, seeming to momentarily forget that he was trying to be grumpy, began to lap at it.

When he had finished, Aziraphale decided to go ahead with the next item of importance. “Crowley, in my readings I learned that snakes typically eat about once a week, and I know you aren’t thrilled about the idea but you probably should eat something that’s good for your body.”

Crowley hissed, but didn’t seem too perturbed, so Aziraphale pushed on. “I read that snakes typically eat things like mice or fish or…” the angel trailed off as Crowley began to shake his head violently in disgust.

“I feel the same way.” Aziraphale laughed, grateful that he wouldn’t have to be sacrificing any small animals anytime soon. “However, snakes tend to also like eggs, if that sounds better.”

To this, Crowley hissed, before pausing and giving a slight nod as if accepting the lesser of two evils.

“Good!” Aziraphale turned to the fridge and pulled out a carton of eggs and began to beat them in a bowl as he let the skillet heat up. He was by no means a good cook, but he could handle some eggs, especially for someone as easygoing regarding food as Crowley. When they eggs were finished, he divided them up between two plates and set one in front of the snake.

Eating his own meal, it took the angel a moment to notice that Crowley hadn’t touched his.

“Crowley, are they ok? Do you want something different?” Aziraphale was confused – the demon had wanted eggs, right?

Crowley looked up at him with – what was that? Sympathy? Embarrassment? - no, it was almost humiliation, and Aziraphale remembered something he had read earlier.

“Oh, goodness! I’m sorry, Crowley. You probably don’t want these cooked, do you?”

The demon looked back at him with a resigned look, and shook his head. Aziraphale got the carton back out and set an egg in front of Crowley, who looked back and forth between it and Aziraphale hissing softly, as if daring the angel to make fun of him.

Finally, he took it in his mouth, and Aziraphale pretended to be busy with his own breakfast as to not giggle at how he had managed to swallow the entire thing whole.

…

Over the next week, the pair fell into a sort of routine. During the day, Aziraphale would sit behind the counter of his shop and read while doing his best to keep the customers from disturbing his research. Crowley, unable to keep himself thoroughly occupied without having any limbs, tended to slither around the shop, sleep, or simply relax on the end of the desk between the wall and the window where Aziraphale had placed another blanket.

After additional reading, the angel also clipped a heat lamp above this little corner so that Crowley would remain comfortable. The demon in question seemed less than thrilled with the angel’s continued research into snakes, and every time Aziraphale picked up one of his zoology books he would shove at it, and point at one of his many spellbooks instead.

Aziraphale suspected that Crowley didn’t want to come to terms with being a snake (not that the angel blamed him), and it was for this reason that one morning, about three days into their new pattern, that Crowley nearly attacked a young man who had walked through the door.

At first, the man was just another customer. Aziraphale eyed him over his spectacles as he looked through his collection, and occasionally performed a miracle so that some of his more prized books would suddenly find themselves out of reach. After he had browsed for a while, he finally selected a book (it was just a reprint of Shakespeare, nothing important) and made his way to the counter. However, seconds too late, Aziraphale noticed his eyes wander over to Crowley who was asleep under his lamp.

“Oh wow!” The man had exclaimed, dropping his book and rushing over to the sleeping snake. “Oh, he’s absolutely _beautiful_! Stunning! I have never seen one quite like this. Tell me, what species is he?”

Aziraphale didn’t know how to answer that, but fortunately the man was continuing is admiration.

“The markings are just fantastic! I’ve had many snakes, I raise them you know, but I’ve never seen anything like this! I wonder where he’s from! He almost looks like a cobra, but not like any I’ve ever seen!”

Crowley, despite being a heavy sleeper, had woken up at the young man shouting his face, and seemed to be understandably upset. Aziraphale, unsure what to do or say, cast Crowley a bewildered look. This, however, was not exactly a good course of action. As the man reached a hand out to stroke his languid body, he lunged forward, fangs bared. The man jumped backwards in shock, losing his footing in the process and falling hard onto the wooden floor.

“CROWLEY!” Aziraphale shouted, and the snake froze, turning to him with his fangs bared slightly and head tilted, as if asking the angel if he could blame him for his actions. “Dear, that is not acceptable! Now you sit right there!”

The man was still on the floor, and as Aziraphale ran over to help him he didn’t notice Crowley slither towards the front door. In fact, between his apologies and embarrassment, Aziraphale didn’t even notice Crowley had moved until he heard the small bell above the door tinkle. Looking up, Aziraphale was shocked to see Crowley propping the door open with his body, and pointing out the door with his tail while hissing softly at the man.

If Aziraphale was surprised, the young man was on the verge of a breakdown. Looking at Aziraphale with wild eyes, then at the snake who was undeniably asking him to leave, he bolted through the door and continued running down the street.

“Crowley, you can’t just go around attacking my customers…” Aziraphale began, ready to scold the demon. However, as he looked down at Crowley who cocked his head and pointed with his tail once more, he began to laugh.

“My dear boy, you certainly gave him a fright! The look on his face when he saw you pointing out the door? Goodness, that was priceless!”

Crowley allowed the door to close and hissed slightly, as if doing his best to laugh along with the angel. Aziraphale, still laughing, picked up the discarded Shakespearian text as Crowley followed close behind.

Placing it back on the shelf, Aziraphale continued. “Although, dear, you can’t act like that. Someone may call the police, and that is a whole issue I don’t even want to think about.”

Crowley nodded slightly, agreeing, but then coiled his body up tight and hissed.

“You’re right, my dear. I’m sorry, that gentleman shouldn’t have done that. As long as you don’t go around scaring off the customers, I’ll make sure nobody tries to touch you, ok?”

The snake nodded again, more sincerely this time, before pointing his nose at Aziraphale and his tail at the door.

“Yes, and if they try to touch you, I’ll kick them out.” Aziraphale smiled before adding, “In fact, if they’re especially inconsiderate I’ll make sure that the rest of their day is especially unpleasant. What do you think, should I make sure they go bald?”

Crowley wriggled in wicked amusement at the prospect, which caused Aziraphale to laugh again.

…

The evenings were Aziraphale’s favorite, he decided. Each day, after hours of fruitless research, he would finally take a break. The last few nights the pair had ordered take out, and Aziraphale would eat it near the fireplace while Crowley lay on his blanket. After this, Crowley would sleep, and Aziraphale would stay up reading or researching. He didn’t need nearly as much sleep, and besides, he got to spend more time with Crowley.

It had gotten a little bit easier, Aziraphale noticed, to accept that Crowley was living there and to not panic over it. Of course, if he thought too hard about it he would lose control, but he allowed himself to feel content as he watched Crowley sleep in the flickering firelight. It may have only been a few days, but Aziraphale was beginning to feel more at peace with life than he had been in quite a while. They were alive, and they were together, and that was all he needed. He didn’t need to think too hard about it all.

This particular evening, after Aziraphale had finished an extremely delicious curry, the pair had been discussing some of their past meetings. Aziraphale tended to only ask simple questions, to make it easier for Crowley to respond, but that didn’t stop the demon from being dramatic about his answers.

The pair was several glasses of wine into the evening (well, several sips for Crowley, as Aziraphale still wasn’t sure if he should have any), and had fallen into the topic of their past meetings Aziraphale recalled memories, and Crowley, snarky as ever, teased Aziraphale for little things.

“I ate _how many_ oysters?”

Crowley tapped his tail against the couch ‘1-2-3’, ‘1-2-3’.

“ _Thirty-three_? No, I don’t believe it. I refuse! You sneaky demon, trying to slander a poor innocent angel! How dare you!” Aziraphale laughed, knowing full well that Crowley’s number was correct.

Crowley hissed in amusement, so Aziraphale struck back.

“Well, if I recall correctly, when we went to the opening night of _Hamlet_ you ate at least a dozen of those silly little bags of nuts they were selling!”

This was met with another amused hiss and a shake of his head – Crowley would not be made fun either.

“Oh goodness, I remember that evening so well. It was such a splendid performance! And what a lovely night too, it was so warm out. After the play we were walking and I saw Gabriel approaching so you dove into that bush! Headfirst! Oh, did I have such a hard time convincing him that I wasn’t up to anything…” Aziraphale trailed off, stomach sinking as realized where this was headed.

Gabriel had been so furious, he had sensed a demonic presence and he was sure Aziraphale had something to do with it. Aziraphale had managed to convince him that he was innocent, but a feeling of guilt had hung around him for quite a while after that and for several decades after their meetings became much more secretive.

Leaning back on the couch, determined not to let his emotions get the best of him, he didn’t notice that Crowley had slithered up next to him. A gentle hiss snapped the angel back to the present, and Aziraphale forced a small smile.

“I’m sorry, my dear, I was just thinking. Gabriel meant well, he was only doing his job you see…” Aziraphale trailed off, tears beginning to prickle behind his eyes. Goodness, he didn’t want Crowley to see him like this.

Crowley, however, held his gaze firmly before pointing his head up, as if toward heaven, and sticking his tongue out.

At this, Aziraphale couldn’t help but laugh as the first tears began to fall.

“You’re right, he is a bit of an idiot.” Aziraphale snuffled. “Oh! Please don’t tell them I said that! I don’t want…” The angel was cut short as he suddenly felt something warm and heavy on his hand resting on the couch.

Looking down quickly, he saw that Crowley had rested his head on Aziraphale’s had to comfort him, and was looking up at him with a firm, reassuring expression. However, when he saw the angel’s alarmed expression, he pulled away immediately.

Aziraphale was immediately flooded with disappointment – he didn’t want Crowley to go, not again. He recalled the other night, how he had frightened Crowley away. Was Crowley afraid he had hurt him? Did the demon think he didn’t want this? He hadn’t meant to frighten him, but looking down into his round amber eyes Aziraphale realized that Crowley was afraid that he had done something horribly wrong.

He wanted to tell Crowley it was ok. He wanted to let him know that he wasn’t at all upset with him, that it was ok for them to touch, that he _wanted_ them to touch. Goodness, he wanted to. But he couldn’t. The emotions swirling around inside of him rendered his body unable to move, and the tears began to fall harder. He couldn’t say anything, he couldn’t do anything, all he could do is sit and stare through blurry eyes. He wanted more than anything for these emotions to go away, to leave him be, even if just for a moment. His hand felt cold where Crowley had rested on it, and he longed for him to come back.

But that was not what would happen. Seeing the angel’s reaction, Crowley quickly slithered off the couch and began to make his way to the back room. No! Not again! The angel wasn’t sure he could handle this anymore; he felt like he was about to break, part of him begging for the demon’s touch and the other part hurling abuses at himself. He wasn’t supposed to love the demon. He shouldn’t love the demon. It was wrong and he knew it, and it was only a matter of time before it all came crashing down.

But, he wanted to. Before this moment, Aziraphale hadn’t been able to admit this to himself. All the times he berated himself for what he was feeling, he ignored how _he_ felt. He loved him, and despite all the pain that came with it, he didn’t want to stop.

“Crowley!” he managed to croak out before the snake disappeared around the corner. The emotions swirled harder and he wasn’t sure he was able to say anything else; he felt like his body was on the verge of collapse. Luckily, the demon knew him well.

Crowley slithered back up to Aziraphale’s feet and cocked his head in concern and bewilderment. Aziraphale still couldn’t find his voice, but with one shaking hand he managed to pat the empty space on the cushion next to him.

Crowley stared again for a moment, as if he was making sure Aziraphale really wanted this. The angel managed a slight nod, which was enough to get him to slither onto the couch. With a cocked head, he pointed at Aziraphale’s hand asking for permission. Although neither could speak aloud, what they managed to communicate was louder than any words.

Aziraphale stuck his arm out and Crowley curled himself around it snuggly, resting his head so that he could see the angel’s face.

With another affirming nod, Aziraphale allowed his eyes to fall shut and to focus on the loving warmth on his arm. Inside, parts of him were still screaming, berating him, and Aziraphale knew that they weren’t going anywhere that evening.

But, despite it all, the warm comfort on his arm managed to drown them out a little and that was enough for now.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale has a difficult, but necessary, conversation with Crowley
> 
> or: "Aziraphale finally figures out how to use his words and now it can be fluffy for a bit"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the following one were supposed to be one, but I felt that things worked out better this way. However, that means the next one is coming soon!

Aziraphale didn’t sleep. Being one to value their time for research, reading, and other intellectual pursuits, the angel saw the activity of laying dormant for hours at a time to be not only frivolous, but an outright waste of time. His corporation was not bound by the restraints of human essentials, and thus he needn’t do any such thing.

That being said, it may have been possible that Aziraphale had drifted off a tiny bit that night on the couch. It wasn’t exactly his intention, but considering the circumstances it was understandable.

…

After sitting for a while longer (Aziraphale suspected that it was a few hours, but he wasn’t sure), his corporation’s heart began to slow, and the swirling emotions downgraded from a hurricane to more of a strong breeze. The entire time Crowley remained still, keeping an eye on the angel just in case he decided he wanted him to leave.

The angel, despite the anxiety afforded to him by the contact, wanted no such thing. As the minutes passed it became more bearable, and almost more pleasant than unpleasant. Aziraphale was incredibly grateful for Crowley’s attentiveness, making sure that he remained comfortable and as calm as possible. Although he couldn’t speak, Crowley seemed to have done his best to help his angel through the difficult situation, and the angel in question began to calm down, appreciating the demon’s actions more with every passing minute.

Finally, feeling that he was in control, Aziraphale sat up and turned to Crowley who was still diligently waiting on his arm.

“Thank you, Crowley.” Aziraphale said, surprising even himself with the amount of emotion in his voice. “Thank you. I apologize for my behavior this evening, I was –“

Aziraphale was cut short by Crowley tightening around his arm and shaking his head firmly. It was clear that he was saying “No apology necessary,” and Aziraphale felt a pang of gratitude.

“You’re right, my dear. But, if you’re amenable, I would like to at least offer you an explanation.” Thinking about Crowley’s sudden exit earlier that evening, and then the one farther back to the evening that got them into this whole mess, the angel felt that he at least owed Crowley this. There was, of course, no way that he could say everything; even if he had wanted to, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle it. Still, he had been unfairly silent as the demon did everything in his power to communicate with him, and he knew that he should start to change that.

Taking another deep breath, Aziraphale snapped his fingers and a cup of steaming cocoa appeared on the table in front of him. Picking it up, he offered some to Crowley who took a few sips, before downing half of it himself in one nervous gulp.

“Goodness. I don’t even know where to begin. I guess… I guess I’m just sensitive to certain things.”

Crowley made his way up the angel’s arm, seemingly oblivious to the hot cocoa still clinging to his snout, and rested his head down gently and warmly. Aziraphale reached down and wiped it off with a small grin. He could do this.

“I guess the best place to start is, well, the beginning. Of the arrangement, I mean. I liked it, I truly did; it was a genius idea and I will still stand by that to this day. But, you see, there was always a part of me that was watching out. What’s that expression? ‘Sleeping with one eye open’, I believe is what one would say if I actually slept. I was always a bit on edge during our meetings, afraid one of my superiors would show up.”

To this, Crowley nodded his head understandingly. He too had had the same experience, and Aziraphale knew it. He had come out of it better off than Aziraphale, to be sure, but it was clear from the look in his eyes that he sympathized with the angel.

Aziraphale pressed on. “Yes, I know that much is to be expected. In fact, it would be rather careless to not be attentive. It’s just that, after years of this, I began to worry myself more about it. More than necessary, I mean. I was always watching my back, too much even, and it became more and more difficult for me to keep my end of the arrangement.”

Seeing the almost guilty glare in the demon’s eyes, Aziraphale quickly amended the statement.

“I’m sorry, that didn’t come out right. I just mean that the closer we got and the less time that went by between meetings, the more I began to care for you.” Goodness, this was getting into difficult territory. Aziraphale must be careful to tread lightly. “Yes, I guess that’s what it is. I began to care more about what might happen to you and, well, I began to worry for the both of us.”

This wasn’t exactly a lie, but the understanding nod Aziraphale received from Crowley assured him that the demon didn’t know he was holding something back. ‘ _I began to love you’_ his mind corrected, and Aziraphale had to take another sip of his cocoa, hoping more than anything that his face wasn’t giving anything away.

“So, well, I guess that’s where it is. I worried for both of our well being – I still do – and just wanted to make sure neither of us got hurt. That’s why…” _That’s why I didn’t want to give you the holy water, why I said that you went too fast for me, why I didn’t run away with you._

“…why I became so anxious earlier. It’s been so little time since the apocalypse, in the grand scheme of things, and…” Aziraphale trailed off again, feeling his eyes begin to prickle once more.

Crowley responded by rubbing his head gently on the angel’s sleeve, comfortingly and lovingly.

“I’ve just spent so many years being afraid of being found out that it’s difficult for me to grasp that I don’t need to be worried. When you touched me, the other evening, it wasn’t that I was angry with you. No, dear boy, not at all. It’s just habit, you see. A defense mechanism, if you will. To keep us both safe.” There. Aziraphale had gotten it out without giving himself away or upsetting himself too much. It had been difficult, but it was out there, and now it was Crowley’s turn.

The snake was still for a moment, as if thinking. After a moment, he lifted his head up from the angel’s sleeve and tapped him gently, cocking his head.

“Yes, dear, it’s ok if you touch me. I wasn’t ready earlier, but I can handle it now.”

Crowley gave a soft, thankful hiss, before unwrapping himself from the angel’s arm and instead coiled himself in the angel’s lap, gently resting his head on the angel’s chest so that their eyes met.

Aziraphale let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding, and looked down at the demon. Had he been in his human corporation this may have been more of an awkward situation, but like this it wasn’t as weird – it was just what the angel needed.

“Thank you, Crowley. I know it’s silly, but you being close like this makes it a bit better.”

The demon nodded, before relaxing against the angel’s warm body and closing his eyes. Aziraphale realized that this whole ordeal was just as difficult for Crowley as it was for him. The demon didn’t know what was happening, why the angel was seemingly rejecting him in cold blood, and yet he stayed around. For him. Aziraphale, doing his best not to disturb the snake, grabbed the throw blanket from the couch behind him, and wrapped it around Crowley to keep him warm. Resting his own hand on top of the demon, Aziraphale let his head fall back and his eyes to close.

Angels, he reminded himself drowsily, didn’t need to sleep. However, he wasn’t exactly the best angel, and with nobody watching no one could judge him for dozing off for an hour or two.

…

Several hours later, however, Aziraphale was far from being tired. Having not wanted to disturb the snake he remained in the same position, but a minor miracle caused him to now have a book in his hand. The firelight cast just enough of a glow for him to make out the words, and the angel had to admit that this was the most content he had felt in a while.

So content, in fact, that he almost wasn’t paying attention to the text. Had he been any more comfortable, he may have made a dire oversight.

The book in question, a significantly thick tome that Aziraphale had required sometime in the thirteenth century. Titled _Home Remedees fore the Alements_ , the angel had initially dismissed the text as most of it seemed to be human superstition. However, over the last week he had exhausted many of his more promising titles with no avail, so this was worth consideration.

Eyes skimming the text, Aziraphale was about ready to exchange it for another. To ‘rub the toad upon thine feet’ or to ‘cover thine skin withe a paste of elderberry and mistletoe” wouldn’t be able to help Crowley, or probably anyone else for that matter. However, reaching the end, a passage caught his just-attentive-enough eye.

_If thee hath not cured thine alements with the prescribed remedees, ‘tis best to approche a Witch, who knows more of the magik of the Erth than thineselve. Bring with thee an offering of hollee and the bloode of a goat, or elst expect her to burn thee. If she judges thee to be worthie of the Cure, she shalt preform it with haste._

Of course! How hadn’t he thought of this sooner? He just so happened to know the single remaining witch who still practiced her craft! He suspected Anathema would not be all too thrilled with ‘an offering of hollee and the bloode of a goat’, but a good bottle of wine might just do the trick.

Overwhelmed with the prospect of finally curing Crowley, Aziraphale jumped to his feet. The snake in question, who had moments ago been slumbering on the angel’s lap, fell to the floor with a dull thump followed by a hiss.

“Oh, dear me, I’m sorry my boy! I got caught up in my excitement and forgot you were there! You aren’t hurt are you?” Aziraphale quickly pulled the blanket off the struggling snake, who looked up at him with annoyance. Slithering back up onto the couch, Crowley hissed at Aziraphale, but gave a shake of his head and laid back down.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry! But I think I might have found something to help you!”

At this Crowley perked up, seemingly forgiving the angel for the rather rude wakening. Aziraphale, in turn, read the passage from the text which he had recently discovered. Crowley sat up excitedly, nodding his head in understanding.

“I, of course, was thinking we should bring her and – what’s the boy’s name – Newton some wine instead of any bodily fluids, but it’s settled!” Aziraphale said with a little clap of his hands.

Crowley slithered off the couch towards the door and turned his head back towards Aziraphale, obviously eager to get going. The angel, however, turned his head to the large grandfather clock in the corner, whose yellow face revealed that it was only minutes after 2 am.

“Dear, I’m sorry, but it’s the middle of the night.” Aziraphale hated to be the bearer of bad news, but he suspected Anathema and Newt would be less than thrilled if they showed up on their doorstep before the sun even rose.

Crowley was not having any such logic and pointed at the door once more, more fervently this time.

Aziraphale sighed. “No, Crowley, not now.”

Crowley slunk down and coiled up on the floor, resting his head on the floorboards as if exhausted. What a drama queen, thought Aziraphale.

“Dear, we can go first thing in the morning, I promise. I know how eager you are to change back, and I don’t blame you at all, but we’re going to have to wait a little longer.” Aziraphale’s line of sight fell on his now-cold mug. “How about while we wait I can make us some more cocoa, and I can read you something. Would you like that?”

Crowley, still dragging his head in exaggerated drama, hissed in a way that sounded more like a sigh, and dragged himself back up onto the couch.

“I choose to take that as a ‘yes’. I’ll be right back, okay?” Aziraphale headed up to the kitchen and began to prepare the cocoa. He poured most of it into his favorite mug, and the rest in a shot glass. Aziraphale was not one for harder liquors, and thus the glass most likely had belonged to the demon at one point. He promised himself that once they got out of this situation he would give it back, along with a nice bottle of bourbon.

Heading back downstairs, Aziraphale paused briefly at one of his shelves and ran the fingers of his free hand over the spines of the books. Locating the title he was searching for, he returned to the couch where Crowley was waiting. The angel set down the glasses, then pulled the table closer so that Crowley could reach his own cup.

Sitting down on the couch and pulling the discarded blanket onto his lap, he was a bit pleased when Crowley took it upon himself to slither back into his lap. His breath hitched for a moment, waiting for the hurricane of emotions, but once again the sensation could only be described as a light draft and for that the angel was grateful. It wasn’t perfect, but it was getting better.

Picking the book, Aziraphale smiled down at Crowley.

“I seem to recall that you have a preference for Shakespeare’s ‘funny ones’, as you worded it.” Aziraphale said with just a bit of sarcasm in his voice.

Crowley gave him a little hiss, but settled down comfortably in the angel’s lap as if he had done it a million times before.

Aziraphale sighed, before opening the book:

_Proceed, Solinus, to procure my fall_ _  
And by the doom of death end woes and all._


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley take a trip to see if Anathema can help them out. 
> 
> Hint: she can, but not without turning Aziraphale's world upside down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!
> 
> I absolutely love the headcanon that Freddie Mercury wrote "Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy" about Aziraphale and Crowley, and that Crowley will take that secret with him to the (metaphorical) grave. 
> 
> I should be able to get the next chapter posted next week, but we'll see :)

“I’m sorry Crowley, but I just don’t see any other way that this could work out.”

The snake shook his head vigorously, as he had been doing for the last few moments. The sun had risen nearly half an hour ago and the pair still hadn’t left. Having overcome some of his worries last night had left Aziraphale feeling refreshed excited for the day to come. However, Crowley was being horribly stubborn and even the angelic being was starting to get a little exasperated.

“Crowley,” he started again. “I don’t have the energy to miracle the BOTH of us there AND back, and you know perfectly well that I can’t take you on the bus. Even if I could smuggle you on, what if someone saw you? You know it wouldn’t do for us to cause a scene – what if they kicked us off? Then what would we do?”

Crowley’s yellow eyes darted up at the angel menacingly, but didn’t seem to be able to contest Aziraphale’s argument. With a hiss, he pointed at the angel and cocked his head.

“Well… no… I haven’t driven before, but how hard can it be really? I’ve seen you do it plenty of times and besides, your automobile seems to have a mind of its own anyway.”

Crowley hissed, shaking his head again, and the angel knew it was time to play his trump card.

“Well, okay. I guess we can both stay here then. I can call up Anathema – I’m sure that despite how busy she is planning for her wedding she’d be able to come down here in the next, say, _month_ or so. There’s no reason to worry!” The angel had turned away from the snake and was taking his jacket off in exaggeratedly slow motions. Without needed to turn around, Aziraphale knew he had got him.

The demon slithered over to the angel’s feet and, making eye contact, nodded his head resignedly and pointed out the door of the shop.

“Wonderful!” Let me go pack us some lunch, we can leave in 15 minutes alright?” The angel had to turn back around to hide his smile from Crowley. He felt a little bad, messing with the demon, but it was rather fun to get him worked up over things like this. What had he called him? ‘Just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing’? That sounded about right. Besides, Aziraphale had always wanted to try driving the Bentley.

…

Aziraphale laid the demon’s blanket down on the passenger’s seat and waited as Crowley coiled himself up on it. Closing the door behind him, the angel flashed a smile at him. This, however, was met with a hiss that plainly said ‘You hurt my car and I’ll _kill you_.’

“Alright!” exclaimed the angel, pretending not to have noticed. “I believe I am familiar enough with the basics…”

Aziraphale turned the engine over and was secretly a bit proud of himself. “Great! Now I just put this in reverse…” the angel pulled the lever-thingy to his left and the car immediately jumped backwards. Aziraphale slammed his foot on the brake mere seconds before the car could hit the lamppost behind them.

Crowley hissed, louder this time, and wrapped his body around the angel’s hand which was still on the gear shift.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Give me a moment, I’m sure I can figure it out!” The angel did his best to reassure the demon, who seemed to be far from being persuaded that the angel was being truthful. “Besides, my dear, if I get even the smallest scratch on the Bentley I promise I’ll miracle it away.”

The demon seemed less than convinced, but he let go of the angel’s wrist and returned to his blanket.

Taking a deep breath, Aziraphale shifted the car again, and managed to pull away from the spot in front of the bookshop which the Bentley had been parked (illegally, Aziraphale was sure) for the last week.

…

By the time the pair had made it out of London, Aziraphale felt much more confident. Once he had gotten on the road, the angel had done surprisingly well and only one minor miracle had been necessary. Crowley, too, was much more relaxed. Having first asked permission, the snake had shifted over to the angel and was currently curled up next to him with his head resting on his thigh.

The pair sat in contented silence for about 20 minutes, before Crowley lifted himself up and turned on the radio. Naturally, it began playing a song by Queen, and the snake nestled himself back down next to Aziraphale.

“Oh, I believe I recognize this one!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “Yes, it was in the 90’s and we were… I don’t even remember where we were going, but we were in the car. This one played, and I asked you about Freddie. It was shortly after he had passed away, I think, and you told me about how you and he used to have a few drinks and he would write silly little songs. You two were very close, you were. I recall you once telling me that he was one of the only people you had ever trusted, and I can’t imagine how hard his death had been on you…”

Aziraphale trailed off, realizing that Crowley had almost deflated onto the seat. It was clear that the topic was upsetting him, so Aziraphale looked around for a change of subject. Luckily, a new song had just begun.

_I can dim the lights and sing you songs full of sad things, we can do the tango just for two…_

“Oh, I remember this one too! It came on last time too, and you had…”

Aziraphale was interrupted by Crowley throwing his body rather violently at the power button and the song stopped. Suddenly, he remembered.

“…done that.” Yikes, Aziraphale wasn’t sure what had upset him, but the next few minutes of silence were rather awkward.

…

By the time the pair had reached Tadfield, however, the silence had become comfortable again. Crowley had fallen asleep about half an hour before, and even as Aziraphale pulled up his head remained tucked under the angel’s leg. He almost felt bad waking him up, Aziraphale reflected, seeing how peaceful he looked. However, as he shifted the car into park, he softly stroked the black coils until Crowley stirred.

“We’re here, dear. And look, it’s not even noon!”

The pair made their way up to the cottage’s doorstep, Aziraphale stopping to knock and Crowley coiling himself up next to him. Aziraphale reflected as he waited that maybe it would have been best to call ahead of time, but soon the door opened and a slightly disheveled man in glasses and a t-shirt poked his head out, squinting again the sun.

“Oh! You. Uh, I…” Newt stopped as he looked down to see the large black serpent at the man’s feet, and let out a scream before falling backwards onto the floor.

“My goodness!” Aziraphale jumped forward to help him up. He felt foolish for not saying anything – he had become so accustomed to Crowley’s alternate appearance that he had almost forgotten how strange it looked to outsiders.

Aziraphale began to stutter a sort of apology when Anathema appeared. Although her dress was less extravagant than the last time they had seen each other, it still had a high collar and trailed on the floor behind her. She looked happy, and her face had a bit more color than it had before.

“Goodness, I wasn’t expecting you! It’s been a while since I last…” Anathema too trailed off as her eyes landed on Crowley.

This time, however, Aziraphale was prepared. Taking a step forward to place himself between the witch and the snake.

“It’s okay! Please, don’t freak out!” Anathema relaxed a bit, seemingly trusting the angel, but Newt took another step backwards and mumbled something that sounded a lot like “too late for that”.

“I’m sorry to come here unannounced,” Aziraphale continued, “But we’ve gotten ourselves into a bit of a tricky situation, and was wondering if you might have some information that could help us.”

“…’us’?” Anathema asked, eyes darting back and forth between the man and the snake.

“Yes, you remember Crowley?” Anathema nodded slowly in affirmation. “He’s, well, he’s rather more serpentine than usual.”

Crowley peeked out from behind the angel’s legs, and gave an abashed little nod.

“…well, I guess he is.” Anathema seemed to be catching up to speed, but Newt looked as if he were about to faint.

“We came here to see if you might know any sort of spells or anything that may be of use in getting him back to normal. For the last week I’ve been doing lots of research, but I haven’t come up with anything. I’d be incredibly grateful if you’d be willing to assist.”

Anathema still looked a little dazed, but nodded. “Yes, the library is this way. Follow me.”

“Thank you so much, dear.” Aziraphale followed, Crowley trailing along at his heels. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Crowley pause and turn to a still-trembling Newt.

“Crowley, don’t you even think about it! Leave the poor man alone!”

Crowley slowly turned back with a hiss, and followed.

Anathema’s library was something that both the angel and the demon could appreciate. In a side room with floor-to-ceiling windows, the overflowing shelves glowed in the sunlight. Several comfortable looking chairs were placed around the room, and seemingly every inch of extra space was taken up by potted plants of innumerable varieties.

Crowley took it upon himself to immediately slither into a patch of sunlight and resume his nap, while Aziraphale and Anathema sat down in two of the chairs.

“I can’t say I know much about transformative magic,” Anathema began, “But I can certainly see what I can do. How long has he been a… snake?”

Aziraphale wrung his hands. He knew Anathema was aware that they weren’t exactly _human_ , but he wasn’t sure what he should and shouldn’t tell her. On one hand, she was a witch so it wouldn’t be as shocking as it would be to other humans, but on the other hand neither of them had ever really revealed their true forms to anyone on earth. He glanced down to a plant to his left. Rosemary. He began to nervously roll a piece in his fingers as he chose his words carefully. “Well, _this time_ it’s been about a week.”

“’This time’? You mean this has happened before?” Anathema seemed a bit shocked, so Aziraphale quickly clarified.

“Well, you see, he can turn into a snake on command. It’s… a long story. But last week, he changed for the first time in a while and, well, he got stuck.”

Anathema blinked for a moment, before continuing. “Well, I’ve seen weirder I guess. Let me take a look, I have a book somewhere for transformative potions. I’m not sure if they’d work on, well, _him_ , but it’s worth a shot.” She stood up and ran her long fingers along the shelves, pulling out books every now and then before replacing them. After a moment, she took one down and began flipping through it.

“Ah, this might be it! It’s supposed to reverse the effects on someone who’s been cursed to be an animal. I mean, he hasn’t been cursed, but I don’t think it would hurt to try.”

“Wonderful! Thank you so much dear! What do you –“Aziraphale was cut short by a throat clearing behind him. “Oh! Newt! I’m so sorry we gave you such a fright before. I assure you that this is the same old Crowley who wouldn’t hurt a fly. Trust me, he’s harmless – just a little bit of a bastard.”

Newt stood in the doorway nodding slowly, not seeming to actually believe a word the strange man was saying. Luckily, Anathema jumped in.

“Honey, it’s okay. You’ll be just fine, I promise you.” Anathema had a twinge of sarcasm in her voice that Newt seemed to be oblivious to. “Would you mind helping me out gathering some things for a potion? I have most of what I need here, but I need you to run into town to grab some rosemary.”

“Oh you-“ Aziraphale was cut short by Anathema who raised her voice slightly. “I know you won’t like this, but I think you should take Crowley with you. He’s a friend, okay, he’s not going to hurt you.”

Newt’s eyes somehow managed to get wider, but upon hearing his name Crowley awoke and slithered over to him. The two stared at each other for a moment before Newt finally mumbled some sort of agreement and turned to the door. Crowley followed closely, giving his ankles just enough of a swipe to cause him to yelp.

As they left, Aziraphale turned back to Anathema. “You have rosemary right here, you know. Why’d you send them off?”

Anathema smiled sadly. “Magic like this is actually a bit more complicated than I let on. I know magic for humans, but your situation is a bit trickier. The potion I’m making is designed to work on humans, but for beings that have powers like this, well, I doubt it’ll do anything to be honest with you.”

“And?” Aziraphale was growing nervous. “What is it that you needed to send him away for? Why are you making the potion at all?”

Anathema sighed. “It’s difficult. For beings like you, well, there’s really no physical remedy. From my experience and readings the only things that tend to help are rooted in emotions.” Anathema stood up and motioned for Aziraphale to follow. The pair sat down at the kitchen table, and Anathema began to pull out herbs and such from the drawer as she continued.

“I don’t know for sure, to be honest with you, but I think that the solution may lie in Crowley’s emotions. If you don’t mind telling me, how did he end up like this?”

Well, this was a conversation the angel didn’t particularly want to have. Having only partially come to terms with himself regarding the whole situation, he was rather hesitant to confide in someone else. He had learned the hard way over the centuries that letting anyone onto your emotions would only end in disaster. Still, Anathema seemed to believe what she was saying, and the angel’s own research didn’t seem to be getting him anywhere.

“It was an evening, about a week ago.” Aziraphale began. “We were drinking after dinner – drinking too much, probably – and we were laughing and Crowley, well, he put his hand on mine. The whole thing is a blur, really, but I think I freaked out a bit because he had never done that before and I didn’t know what to do and before I knew it he had turned into a snake and had gone!” Aziraphale ducked his head down let out a shaky sigh, embarrassed but grateful he had gotten it out.

“Oh.” stuttered Anathema. “It makes sense but… well, I guess I assumed… but you two aren’t… I’m so sorry…”

“What?” Asked Aziraphale, somehow even more confused than he had been before. What had she assumed and what did it have to do with Crowley being a snake?

Anathema let out a long sigh and looked up at the kitchen ceiling as if trying to choose the right words. Finally, she put her hands down on the table and looked Aziraphale in the eye.

“He’s in love with you.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale does his best to come to terms with the whole situation, and luckily Anathema is patient enough to help him through it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick update - more is on the way though, I promise!

“ _What?_ ” Aziraphale wasn’t sure how many times he had said that, but he had no idea what she was talking about. Anathema was sitting quietly, waiting for the angel to process her words and hoping he would catch on without more elaboration on her part.

She would not be so lucky, as Aziraphale was far from comprehending a word she said. Crowley? Love him? Sure, they cared for each other, but the demon didn’t seem to feel the way the angel did. It just didn’t make sense for him to. Where was the benefit? In all their years together, what had the demon ever done that would indicate that his feelings ran deeper than he let on?

Aziraphale racked his mind, trying to see if there was anything he had missed over the centuries. Sure, there was that time in 1941 when Crowley had saved both him and his books, but that was just a friendly gesture, right? The time in the car in the 60’s? No, Aziraphale was being stupid if he thought that Crowley’s words were anything but literal. Well, what about at the Ritz a few months ago? Aziraphale couldn’t help but admit to himself just how much he felt for the demon as they toasted to the world, but could Crowley have been feeling the same way?

“Aziraphale.” Anathema began with a hint of pity in her voice. “The reason he freaked out was because his emotions were running high for you, and you turned him away. You said he left? I’m willing to bet he panicked and wanted to get out of there. He probably didn’t even consciously mean to change his form.”

“No, that doesn’t make sense. He was just upset because he thought he had hurt me. I’ve always been touchy, that doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean he loves me!” Aziraphale felt himself getting feverish as he began to feel tears come to his eyes. Blasted corporation.

Anathema sighed yet again, as if she were dealing with a slow child. She muttered something under her breath that sounded like “ugh, men”, but Aziraphale was too strung out to know or care.

“Oh dear. I know you don’t want to hear this, and I wouldn’t tell you unless it was absolutely necessary, but I think I need to.” Aziraphale turned back to Anathema as she continued. “I can see auras. Like, emotions and spirits around people. I think it’s because of Agnes, but it means I can tell how someone is feeling, sort of.”

“And?” Aziraphale had an idea where this was going, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to believe it.

“And I’ve seen Crowley’s. He loves you, Aziraphale. _A lot_. Like ‘I-have-never-seen-one-so-strong-before’ a lot. I, well, I guess when I first met you I assumed you two were together because of how strong his was, and because…”

Anathema had trailed off, but it was already too late.

“You thought WHAT?” Aziraphale was almost shouting. “My dear, I can assure you that _that_ is NOT the case. Listen, I have worked with him for _years_ and our relationship has never been anything but professional. Well, I will admit that one could call us friends, but still! I don’t care what your ‘auras’ say, no offense of course, he feels no such thing!”

Anathema opened her mouth to say something, but Aziraphale pressed on.

“You’ve got your auras, and, well, I can sense feelings in my own way, okay. You think I would have noticed if the man I spent most of my time with was _in love with me_!”

Aziraphale felt his face growing redder by the second, but he didn’t care.

“Aziraphale, I’m sorry, I really am, but I can’t in good conscious let this go. It might be the key to helping Crowley, and, well, I think some things need to be said.” Anathema motioned for Aziraphale to follow her to the stove, where she pulled out a pot and began tossing some of the herbs she had been fiddling with into it. “I hate to ask you this, but if you’re correct in saying that you can detect emotions, has there ever been a time that you picked up on something that you couldn’t explain?”

“What do you –“ Aziraphale began, looking up at Anathema, when something suddenly clicked. Her slight smile had triggered a memory he had almost forgotten about, and he sighed.

“Well, yes. The night when Crowley, well, hit you with his car (sorry about that again, my dear), we had been talking moments before. It was night, and nobody was around, and I started picking up on love, quite a bit of love actually, and… oh. Oh.”

Everything fell into place. Thoughts began racing through his head, and if it hadn’t been for Anathema’s pressing stare, he wouldn’t have even remembered to say anything aloud.

“Crowley’s a good driver. A slightly terrifying driver, but he has never once gotten into an accident in the entire time I have known him. That night I had voiced my observations aloud, and only seconds later he hit you. I was so shocked that there was no way I connected the events – why should I have? But you’re right. I was picking up on waves of love, and as soon as I said something I remember Crowley getting agitated, and then he crashed for the first time ever.”

Aziraphale sighed, and laid his head on his arms on the countertop. His feelings were not embarrassment, he realized suddenly, but anger. Not anger directed at Anathema and her knowing-a-bit-too-much, or at Crowley for possibly being dishonest; no, he was angry at himself. Angry for letting himself hope for even one second that the demon could feel the same way as he did. It was torturous, what Aziraphale had to live with, and he couldn’t stand the thought that Crowley may be dealing with the same thing. What if Anathema was right? What if Crowley was going through the same agony that he was, and he had been too blind to see? There was no winning for either of them in the situation at hand.

The angel felt a soft hand on his shoulder, and he looked up to see Anathema’s sweet, knowing smile.

“It’s okay dear, I’m sorry this whole ordeal has been so hard. I just thought it would be best if you knew, especially considering…” Anathema trailed off as her line of sight snapped to the air just above Aziraphale’s head.

“Considering what?” Asked Aziraphale, although he already knew.

“Considering that the feeling is mutual. Like I said, I’ve always known, ever since I met you. You love him too.”

Aziraphale laid his head back down again, taking a deep breath. Of course she knew. It was stupid to try to pretend anymore. She was right about everything, Aziraphale conceded, and upon thinking this his eyes began to fill with tears. All these years, he had let Crowley go through the same _longing_ that we was being tortured by, and there was no forgiving that. No matter what Aziraphale did, he would never be able to apologize for what he put Crowley through, ever. Part of him knew he should be happy – he had always secretly wanted this – but the circumstances were all wrong. Even if Crowley could forgive him (which Aziraphale doubted), then what? Aziraphale couldn’t even handle the demon gently touching his arm, and despite the progress he had made he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to treat Crowley as well as he deserved. He couldn’t even treat himself well.

And, on top of all of that, Crowley was still a snake.

Doing his best to hide his tears, Aziraphale turned back to Anathema.

“What am I going to do?” Even Aziraphale was surprised by how broken his own voice sounded.

Anathema continued stirring the pot which, after having added several vials of liquids, was bubbling.

“Well, we’ll take it one step at a time. Remember how Crowley got into this mess? Well I think something similar may be able to get him out of it.”

And Anathema began to tell the angel her plan.


End file.
